


Gone

by greengrapegaze



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Bullet wound, Character Death, Dead Sherlock, Death, Emotional, Emotional Hurt, Emotions, Gun Violence, Guns, Gunshot Wounds, Heavy Angst, Love, Love Confessions, Love at First Sight, M/M, Major Character Injury, Major character death - Freeform, Not A Happy Ending, Not Happy, POV Sherlock Holmes, Pain, Unhappy Ending, bullet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-11
Updated: 2014-09-11
Packaged: 2018-02-16 23:25:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2288462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greengrapegaze/pseuds/greengrapegaze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><span class="u"><b>sen·ti·ment</b></span><br/>sen(t)əmənt · <i>noun</i><br/><b>1.</b> A view of or attitude toward a situation or event; an opinion.<br/>"<i>You are amazing, you are fantastic!<i>"</i></i></p><p> <i></i><b>2.</b> A feeling or emotion.<br/>"<i>But sentiment, sentiment is a chemical defect found in the losing side</i>."<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	Gone

The sensation of falling was incomparable. Fear was thick, morose, and coated with anticipation so _pure_ in emotion that one could only allow themselves to be swathed in acute agony. Truth was known the moment his feet left the security of cement and his heart lurched with regret. Hope was dashed within seconds and each theory was quelled with bitterness.

_Could be minor. Might have missed a major organ or artery. Merely a scrape._

Words that would leave him warm if they were only true. Death was coming, blood pouring from his lithe being in rivulets soon to puddle around him like a shield. He could imagine the rhythm of the ruby as it filled in cracks and patterns. It was reaching for its very own completion; a race to fill a void before growing too cold. It failed just as he had. Anger bubbled within his sensitive core and it melded into his terror to create a rage so unknown to the detective. Unknown and yet _so_ familiar in its hopelessness. He wanted to shout for retribution but the only word to leave his lips was a name. **John**.

Pain blossomed and burgeoned into him with a force Sherlock wasn't privy to. His mind blanketed itself, logic, memories, feeble thoughts and emotions- _all silenced_. A hiss expelled from his chest to be shortly followed by a curt grunt. Trembling fingers told him all he needed to know as he raised his hand to torn flesh and wet fabric, but it was in the placement of the bullet that finalized his life. The Great Sherlock Holmes was dying. 

Pitiful that he didn't have strength enough to cry though his eyes burned. It wasn't the pain, nor the meager fact that he was dying, that bothered the detective so. Perhaps that was a lie. Death was truly a scary thing once faced with the actual end. Humans feared that which they did not know, but they were utterly terrified of change as well, and Sherlock was no different. So calculated in his look of the world, he told himself death was _simple_ ; just a quick means to an end and finale to a minor concerto. He'd always expected to die young, had even accepted it once. Oh, how things had changed with the intermittent of a damaged army doctor. For now, all the man could think of was regret for a life lived close to fully. 

John's name on his tongue was an irritant and a soothing balm. Unfortunate that he couldn't force it through his lips but only stutter it now. It wasn't as if the man might hear him. He was so far gone in his new life of marriage and commitment to someone truly deserving of it. He'd been so stupid. He'd wasted such valuable time. He should have told him once and for all. _**Idiot**_

Sherlock closed his eyes on the image of his beloved companion and doctor. John Watson, so brilliant a luminous, _perfect_ in his ordinance, and no longer a major component of his life. He could have been. _Should_ have been but _fear_ - ** _fear_** was so strong a factor in his decisions. Fear of rejection, of abandonment and loneliness, of never seeing the man smile in a way that removed the hollowness from his face. For while his army doctor was broken and would never be whole again, Sherlock loved all of what he was. Bitterness would be his friend in the end and it would be all of his blame. 

And as the regret weighed him down, Sherlock ignored the burn in his lungs and the rasp of his breath in favor of removing his phone. Once an easy task was now hard to maneuver as he opened his dulled eyes to witness a blurry screen. Finding John's name was simpler a task, but typing what he needed to say was not. Thankfully he'd had the chance and decision of actually _calling_ the man and hearing the ever so tired voice on the other line.

He contented with himself that if he were to die in that very moment, he would be fine with this. Just listening to John speak, asking how he was before rambling on about how boring and _domestic_ his life had become. Except Sherlock _knew_ it would never be enough. Nothing would. And so he spoke, frail, exhausted, and choked as he was. He confessed all of what he was to the man that he would forever love. Several apologies was given after; one for his stupidity, another for his death, and a third for being so afraid. It wasn't enough as he hung up, it would never be enough, but the shout of his name would follow him to his grave as a calming embrace. He hung up before John could get another word in and stared up at the stars just beyond his reach. 

Peculiar that only then did he allow himself the rest of his energy to cry.

**Author's Note:**

> Not a very happy fic, but then again, I'm not a very happy person. Sorry to any and all those conflicted with this fic. It's not polished, not beta'd, and I don't really care for it to be. It was just to help me vent and get at least a tiny bit of the sadness off my shoulders. So, I hope you enjoyed it, and if not, well... Maybe you find a happy fic to lift you up.
> 
> Ahahaha, oh man. This is such a shitty fic. No fucks given. Thank you. Goodbye.


End file.
